Tears
by thefudge is grumpy
Summary: 3x18. Bonnie is crying her eyes out outside Mikaelson Mansion, when someone comes out to comfort her. Pure angst-fluff. (dedicated to a special someone).


_A/N: I blame this on Lana's new song, "Love", which if you haven't checked out - well, I'm about to ruin your night. Also, this was inspired and is dedicated to my dear friend **Anastasia-G** , (loosely known on the streets as irresistible-revolution) who discussed 3x18 with me a long time ago and planted a certain idea in my head about a certain piece of dialogue. Ily girl! Anyway, enjoy the fluff-angst!_

* * *

 **Tears**

* * *

There's a special happiness in hitting rock bottom.

It doesn't look or sound or _feel_ like happiness, but it's a kind of deep submission. You're at the bottom of a well and someone is covering the hole. There's only you and this pit of black water. You lie down and crown your body with grief, your lungs fill up with dark minerals, and everything is peaceful and hopeless.

It's kind of like sleeping with your eyes open.

Except she's crying her eyes out.

It's not just her mother that's making her weep. It's this entire year, this entire life. She's only been here for eighteen years and she already feels she has filled her cup to the brim. Bonnie Bennett is spent. And she's not even the one currently bleeding in the Mikaelson foyer. She has to call Elena and tell her about Damon, she has to do this much.

 _I always have to do this much._

She's crumpled like a leaf, like a balled-up piece of paper, next to her car, wishing that she could bite these tears away. She bites her fists instead, hoping they'll bleed out and distract her from the sense of void in her stomach.

To be this young and feel everything so hard, it's unbearable.

And somehow – because she's Bonnie – she feels sad for the world too. She feels sad that she can't ever fix the really big things, the _important_ things.

She can break bloodlines for Klaus, but she can't make him and his family see the error of their ways. She can't kill them, she can't fix them. She can only stand and watch the destruction and give pieces of herself to the carnage.

It's not fair to care so much. Someone should cover the hole.

She hasn't even noticed the air has shifted around her.

Through the veil of tears, she thinks she sees a dark shape. Darker than night, yet glinting with gold. A leonine expression she loathes.

He's crouched down in front of her, his perfectly tailored jacket trailing on the asphalt.

"What's this, little witch? I let you go free, and you sit outside my house and weep?"

Bonnie shrinks against her car, kicking her legs from underneath her. "G-go away."

Klaus tilts his head to catch her eye. "Surely, you are not shedding tears for that Confederate lout."

It takes her a second to realize he's talking about Damon. She almost gives a laugh.

"No… And it's none of your business," she mumbles, rubbing at her eyes.

"Well, you are currently crying on _my_ property."

Bonnie feels an angry wave of magic lash out at him. But she's exhausted from the stupid spell he had her do.

"God! You really are a bastard! I'll get off your precious property, don't worry!"

Klaus' hand shoots up before she can stop him, and she stiffens as he places the weight of it on her shoulder. His fingers seem to cup her pulse.

"That's not what I meant, Bonnie."

His voice is eerily soft, though not devoid of his old chicanery.

"Come now, is this about your poor excuse of a mother? I told you I have people who can bring her back to you."

Bonnie feels a dull pain in her jaw, like she's clenched it too hard.

"You also told me you can bring parts of her back too," she reminds with acid on her tongue.

Klaus frowns, his bushy eyebrows forming a peculiar, almost comical arch.

"Yes…if you so choose. I hardly see the problem."

Bonnie opens her mouth in shock, her tears suspended. She's still huddled against her car. The absurd quality of the situation doesn't strike her yet.

Something seems to dawn on him, and he smiles almost uneasily. " _Oh_. I forgot…you mortals tend to misread offers. I meant it as _revenge_ , little witch. You could have your mother back… or I could have her cut into bits for you. I know you don't like to dirty your hands. It's quite, simple really."

She gapes at him for what feels like centuries. The evening cold is starting to nip at her skin. "I…how could you even think…"

Klaus blinks, like an animal taken out of its habitat. "Well, she _has_ been an awful mother, yes?"

And somehow, this bizarre question undoes her. It unravels her from head to toe. She chokes back something between a sob and a laugh.

That Klaus Mikaelson should be crouching down next to her, trying to cajole her out of her misery with offers of doing her mother in is perfectly reasonable somehow. Perfectly in character for him.

She can't control the blubbering mess that becomes her face, so when he reaches forward and catches her, she lets him. It's not like she could stop him at the moment.

She lands into his shoulder, the smell of him – cloyingly rich and sharp – overwhelming her magical senses, signaling danger. She clings to his lapels awkwardly, loath to touch him and yet unable to stay away. He is a warm body, there for her.

He wraps a tentative arm around her waist and pulls her towards him.

She is shaking in his arms, crying in earnest now. The dam has broken, the river is set loose.

"I – I hate – you," she manages through the deluge.

"I know, love. I know."

His fingers dance on her spine, a comfort and a warning. He is a scorpion, after all, and he will sting you, even if you carry him to the shore.

After a few moments, his grip tightens and she senses the loss of gravity like a blanket.

Giving up is like sleeping with your eyes open.

He is carrying her in his arms back towards the house.

Bonnie looks up into his immortal face and she sees shades of ochre.

She should have called Elena about Damon. Should have.

* * *

She has never been carried like this before, she contemplates, as her hair sways loosely in the air. She holds a hesitant arm around his neck, trying to unhear the blood that pounds in his veins. He is not real to her, not really. Not tonight.

She's being carried by a guardian demon.

* * *

He takes her to his study, where the light is diffuse and the cushions are embroidered and the smell of paint assaults her nostrils.

He deposits her almost gingerly on the divan, tucking her feet sideways. She feels a tingling in her body, like she has been carried in feathers. Oh, she sounds really silly now. She almost wants to giggle. What is she doing here?

"What color is that?" she asks instead, staring at a half-finished canvas.

"Celadon," he informs her levelly, staring at her lain figure before him.

His uninterrupted gaze, so serious and yet so duplicitous, unnerves her.

"Why do you even care?" she asks at length, wiping dry tears from her cheeks.

The Original shrugs, a slant smile on his lips. "I don't. But I hate to see an old adversary down."

Bonnie scoffs, releasing a long-held breath from her chest.

"I'm not down."

Klaus raises an eyebrow and nods to her prostrate position on his divan.

Bonnie raises a limp hand. "I'll be up in a minute."

"I'm sure."

Klaus has somehow fetched a coverlet from an obscure corner of the room and is draping it over her body.

She shivers lightly. The fabric is soft, luxurious.

"Just you wait…" she mumbles, sleepily. "I'll be up and…"

It may be a spelled coverlet because she closes her eyes almost instantly. Sleep is tugging on the frayed edge of her consciousness and it feels like sweet deliverance.

She feels more than sees Klaus at her side, the air vibrating around him.

"I know you will. It is what you do," he speaks softly into her hair. "And I'll be waiting."

He breaks away from her and she feels a chill in his absence, but she snuggles into the coverlet and sighs an almost happy sigh. There is something truly wonderful about giving up.

* * *

Klaus watches her from the doorway.

Tomorrow, enemy lines will be redrawn.

But for one night, he will watch her sleep and wonder why he hates the sight of her tears.


End file.
